


the luxury of knowing

by allouette



Category: Chicago Med
Genre: Angst, Coming Out, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 05:22:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9642467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allouette/pseuds/allouette
Summary: The one where they all find out.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This only took 84 years to finish. I started writing this waaaaaay before the new season started, so there are some plot similarities that are pure coincidence, but I was also able to borrow a couple of things from canon to throw in as well.
> 
> Thanks as always to Sandra for all of the cheerleading and hand-holding and essentially pushing me along through this thing. This probably never would have been completed without her.

It’s still mostly dark out when Connor leaves the apartment. He wants to bitch about the time, how ungodly early it is and the fact that he only got three hours of sleep last night, but he knows it is his own fault. Sex is more tempting than sleep and if he doesn’t hit the gym before shift, he will feel even worse the rest of the day.

He’s adjusting the strap of his gym bag over his shoulder and fumbling with his keys through bleary eyes, doesn’t realize as he rounds the corner that someone is there until they collide. They both start apologizing at the same time, and Connor doesn’t notice that the other person has stopped entirely while he’s grabbing his keys from the floor.

“Connor?”

And then he freezes. Straightens up gradually.

“Natalie,” he says slowly, drawing out each syllable of her name. 

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

“What are _you_ doing here?” he echoes.

“I asked you first.”

“I’m asking you now.”

Her eyes narrow. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Humor me.”

It’s a silent stand off for a beat before Natalie opens her mouth to speak. “I was just—” she starts but doesn’t get to finish because it’s then that they both hear Will’s voice coming up behind Connor, and he takes a brief second of reprieve before the shit hits the fan to close his eyes, thinks, _here we go_.

“Oh good you’re still here! I found your phone under the b-- Nat?”

The three of them stand there for a moment, the silence deafening. She takes in Will’s appearance: bare chest, sleep pants low on his hips, sleepy eyes and hair in disarray. She looks at Connor, the only real difference in his appearance being his gym clothes. 

“Okay, _what_ is going on here?”

Connor and Will look at each other, eyebrows raised. A tense second ticks by, then another. Finally Connor says, “I really have to go if I don’t want to be late...”

A silent conversation happens with eyes and eyebrows, the nod of a head, until Will finally says, “It’s okay, go ahead. I'll catch you later.”

Connor holds his gaze for another moment before he nods, glancing at Natalie again as he takes his phone from Will’s outstretched hand. “Okay. I’ll see you.”

* 

Natalie agrees to talk over breakfast, which incidentally was her whole reason for coming over in the first place - to invite Will out before their shift, to talk and catch up because they haven’t really seen much of each other lately. Even at the hospital, conflicting shifts and overly involved cases have left them with little more than passing glances and brief exchanges. 

Will jumps in the shower, intending to make it quick, and can’t help but wonder if she notices all the little traces of Connor around the apartment. His jacket hanging over the back of a chair, a set of his scrubs folded up on the table, the sweetened almond milk in the fridge that he likes with his healthy cereal that tastes like cardboard. There’s more, in the bedroom and bathroom especially, but Will doesn’t think Natalie would be brave enough to venture that far, and he can only imagine the questions swirling around in her head.

It ends up being one of the fastest showers he has ever taken, and he’s out and dressed in record time. Once he has all of his stuff together for work, they’re out the door and it would be impossible to miss the confusion rolling off of her in waves. She’s borderline uneasy, uncomfortable, and Will bumps her arm with his elbow, gives her a small smile.

“You okay?”

“Honestly?” she says and has to think about how to answer. “I’m so confused, I don’t really know what I am. Answers would be nice. Like since when do you drink almond milk?”

Will ducks his head, smiles to himself. “I don't.”

They end up at a little restaurant a couple blocks away, a place they’ve been to many times before; it’s what they need right now, to surround themselves with something so familiar. They get settled at their table with coffee, Natalie looking across at Will expectantly, and he lets out a sigh.

“It’s... complicated,” he says.

“Uncomplicate it.”

“Nat. It’s not that simple, not with something this personal, this... delicate.”

“So you’re sleeping together.”

“It’s more than that,” Will says, a little surprised at the sting of her over simplification. 

She’s quiet for a few moments, letting his confirmation sink in. Finally she asks, “How long?”

“Since the final fall out with my DNR patient.”

“Jesus, Will.”

Because that was a good what, nine or ten months ago now. And they have kept this hidden the whole time. 

“I don’t even know what to say. Do I even know you anymore?” she asks, just as their food is being delivered to the table. 

Conversation pauses for plates to be set down, thank yous to be said, coffee topped off. Once their waitress walks away, Will continues. “I’m still the same person I’ve always been. Just in a relationship now.”

“In a _secret_ relationship,” she adds. “With _Connor_ , of all people.”

Just the sound of his name brings a small smile to Will’s face and he hides it with a bite of his breakfast. "We have reasons for keeping it to ourselves. There’s hospital administration, for one thing. I mean, we’re both pretty sure we aren’t breaking any rules since neither of us works directly for the other, but with as much shit as I have already caused the hospital, why risk it? There’s also the big, _big_ factor that is Connor’s father,” he says, and the way Natalie winces shows that yeah, she definitely understands that one. Who wouldn’t? “Connor isn’t ready for him to find out, that isn’t a fight he wants to have any time soon, and I respect that.”

It’s a natural place in the conversation to dig into their meals for a while, let the sounds of the restaurant around them take over. Will knows she is still full of a million questions, he can tell with just a glance up at her that the wheels in her head are turning at hyper speed. His plate is almost empty before he speaks again, wiping his mouth on a napkin.

“Nat, when I tell you that no one knows about this, I mean it literally. No one knows. Not even Jay.”

She looks back at him and nods her head; if she’s surprised by that little piece of information, she doesn’t let it show. “It’s not my secret to tell. You know you can trust me. But you know it will eventually become impossible to keep it a secret from everyone forever, right?”

“No, I know,” Will sighs. “And I want to tell Jay, I do. Connor has even said that was okay. I just. Haven’t figured out how to do it yet. It’s kind of a big deal, you know? Huge thing to tell your brother.”

Natalie just looks at him for a moment, studying his face. He’s starting to wonder if maybe he has food or something on it before she asks, “are you in love with him?”

The question catches Will a little off guard. They haven’t really thrown around the L word; it’s not something they have said yet. Not out loud, anyway. But he can’t say he hasn’t thought about it, that he isn’t sure this feeling that fills his chest and completely takes him over isn’t love. 

It takes him a minute to answer but he finally nods, breaking out into a small grin, almost laughing when he says, “yeah, yeah, I am.”

* 

It is times like this that Will has started to live for, when the apartment is dark and it’s just the two of them covered in sweat with no end in sight. He has Connor on top of him, inside of him, the slick slide of over heated skin, and everything is so _hot_ – Connor’s mouth, his hands, his cock.

He braces himself with a hand pressed back against the headboard as Connor fucks into him, slow and steady and so perfect Will vaguely wonders through the pleasure haze how this could possibly be his life. When Connor kisses him again, it’s deep and languid, like they have all the time in the world to savor this: they sort of do right now, because neither of them are scheduled to work tomorrow, the smallest of blessings, and they are going to make the most of every minute of their freedom.

The kiss breaks on a gasp, Will sucking in a deep, sharp breath, his fingers digging into the tight muscle of Connor’s shoulder. His legs slip from around Connor’s waist, thighs burning.

“You are… _killing me_ here,” Will says, and if it comes out sounding like a whine, well, he can’t really help that. 

“Yeah? Want me to stop?” Connor asks, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, blue eyes dark and shining.

Will hooks a leg up around the small of Connor’s back again, digs his heel in. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Connor laughs, a soft and breathless sound, and he pulls Will’s hand from the headboard, hooks their fingers together. 

It’s so easy for them to get lost in this, in each other, the rest of the world around them fading away. The next kiss they share is just the soft press of lips that lingers, melts into the next kiss, and the next, until Will has his fingers tangled in Connor’s hair and he has to break away to groan out loud because when Connor thrusts into him, it’s deeper, harder, suddenly faster than before. 

There’s a sense of urgency finally starting to build, and Will is about to slide his hand down between them, touch himself for the first time when something steals his attention for a second. His hand goes still and he holds his breath because he would swear on his life he just heard--

“Wait, _wait_ , what was that?” Will asks, pressing his hand to Connor’s chest, his head turning toward the open door.

“What?”

“You didn’t hear that?”

Connor just blinks at him and then, “ _William! I know you’re here, and you better have a damn good explanation!_ ” sounds through the apartment.

“Shit,” Will curses under his breath, scrambling out from under Connor as quickly as he can.

“What the fuck is your brother doing here?!”

Will closes the bedroom door as quietly as possible before Jay has a chance to venture down the hallway and drags a hand over his face, his heart pounding hard in his chest for an entirely new reason now.

“I may have forgotten I was supposed to meet him at Molly’s,” he mutters, and fuck, he needs pants. The sweatpants currently lying on the floor definitely aren’t going to fly right now, that’s for sure. He isn’t positive his legs will hold him up long enough to even _put on_ pants, what with the way his knees feel like they’re going to give out on him any second now.

Connor sits up on the edge of the bed, sheet pooled around his waist. “So that means he can just barge into your apartment?”

It’s been awhile since Will has seen Connor this pissed, and he wants to stop and reassure him and make excuses and do everything he can to make sure he’s okay, but he can’t, not right now. There isn’t enough time. Instead he stuffs his shaky legs into a pair of jeans and shouts to Jay that he’ll be right out because he’s way too close to the bedroom now, his voice coming louder when he calls for Will this time, and there’s a swell of panic bubbling up in him that he’s having a hard time swallowing back down. 

_Fuck._

“He has a key,” is what he finally says, jeans more than uncomfortable as he zips and buttons them but any sense of arousal he felt before has been squashed by fear and dread and nausea. “He’s my brother, Connor, he’s…” Will stops, breathes for a second. Then a few more. “I have to go out there. How should I handle this?”

“You’ll be fine,” Connor says, like that really answers the question, but at least he isn’t biting Will’s head off. 

Will grabs a shirt and drags a hand through his hair, breathes again for a moment before he opens the door and steps out to face the music. He finds Jay back in the living room, having helped himself to a beer from the fridge, and he has to swallow against the nausea churning in his stomach.

“Hey.”

“Finally! What the hell, man—” Jay is saying as he turns around, “what—whoa, dude, come on!”

Will rolls his eyes, like seeing his brother shirtless is suddenly _so offensive_ , and pulls his shirt on. Granted, if Jay only knew.

“I forgot about Molly’s. I’m sorry, I should have called.”

“You’re damn right you should have called,” Jay agrees, pointing his bottle at Will. “You don’t stand up a cop, you ass. Or your brother. Put those two things together, and you’re in a world of trouble.”

It’s enough to make Will smile and he nods his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “I should have known better, you’re right. It’s a mistake I won’t make again, believe me.”

“Uh huh,” Jay says, and it’s hard to miss the way his gaze lingers on Will’s appearance. “So tell me, who’s the lucky lady? Did you finally work up the balls to do something about—”

His timing is impeccable because it’s then that Connor decides to join them as he’s pulling a t-shirt over his head, the cursed sweatpants from the bedroom floor clinging to his hips, and Will isn’t sure if he is relieved by Connor’s presence or if he wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

“Halstead,” is all Connor says to acknowledge Jay as he crosses the room and makes his way straight through to the kitchen like it’s nothing, like this isn’t a huge thing happening right now, like Jay doesn’t look like he’s about to go into cardiac arrest, his eyes bugging out of his head.

There’s a long, lingering silence where all they do is look back and forth at each other while Connor fixes himself something to drink, and Will is sure Jay is going to have a stroke before he finally, _finally_ says, “Wait.”

Connor sets his glass down on the counter. “Yeah?”

“But you…” Jay says directly to Will. “Wait.”

“Jay,” Will starts, has to stop for a moment or two to figure out what to say. “Maybe we should sit down?”

“Absolutely not. Because there’s no way you’re about to tell me what I think it is you’re about to tell me.”

“Jay,” Will says, softer this time. 

“No,” Jay shakes his head. “I know you better than this.”

“Just because he’s your brother doesn’t mean you automatically know every little thing about him,” Connor says, leaving his spot in the kitchen to stand by Will’s side.

The glare Jay shoots in his direction is fierce, and Will watches the way his brother’s jaw clenches, twitches, the curl of his fist. It makes Will’s stomach clench - not that he thinks Jay would resort to violence in any way, but that he’s this upset. Angry, even. 

“You’re not gay,” Jay states matter-of-factly, his attention back on Will, obviously not giving a shit about anything Connor has to say.

Will swallows hard, wonders how much longer this confrontation can continue before he throws up. “You're right, I’m not.”

“Then what the hell is this? Some… I don’t know, crazy experiment? You’re a little young for a mid-life crisis, but I’ll take it.”

Connor rolls his eyes so hard, Will can practically feel it. “People can be a lot more than just gay or straight, Jay, surely you’re smart enough to understand that.”

“Hey, don’t get smart with me, Rhodes!” Jay snaps.

“Or what?”

Suddenly the space between Jay and Connor is virtually nonexistent, and Will has to push in between them, shove them apart again. They both back off, return to their own sides of the room. It’s easy to see that they’re at a stand still after that. Even with quick tempers, no one really wants to fight; it’s also late, and there’s a lot more to be said, a lot more to settle than can be done in one conversation. Jay isn’t happy, but he seems more than ready to leave, obviously can’t get out the door fast enough. 

It comes as a second thought, then Will is rushing out the door to catch him, finds him waiting at the elevators with his phone in his hands.

“Jay.” It’s hard, when Jay doesn’t even look at him, to find the words to keep going. “Jay, I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about this sooner. It’s…” Will stops, shakes his head a little. “Look, no one knows about this, okay? And I know you’re pissed off and… but I need you to keep this to yourself. _Please_.”

“Yeah,” Jay mutters as the elevator doors slide open and he steps inside. “Whatever.”

“Jay.”

“Trust me, no desire to talk about it with anyone,” he says as the doors close.

* 

It’s the middle of the afternoon when Connor takes a stroll down to the ED. His first and only scheduled surgery of the morning went surprisingly well, a lot smoother than they were anticipating considering the patient’s age and overall health, so there’s an added pep in his step of a job well done as he walks around. 

His eyes are on the lookout for an unruly mop of ginger hair, nowhere to be seen from what he can tell at first glance without sticking his head into patient’s rooms – out of the question. He’s about to give up and head back upstairs when he spots Natalie making her way out of the lounge and makes a beeline in her direction.

“Dr. Rhodes!”

Connor stops dead in his tracks. _Should’ve just sent him a text_ , he thinks as he makes the slow, painful turn on his heels toward the nurses’ station and away from his saving grace. 

“Maggie.”

“Looking a little lost down here, Dr. Rhodes,” she says, barely looking up from the tablet in her hand. “Anything I can help you with?”

“I was just… I was looking for Dr. Halstead, actually. I… had a question. About a patient.”

“Since when do the two of you consult with each other about patients?” she asks and she’s right, she is so right, Connor wants to punch himself.

“It’s just a simple question, Maggie, not the Spanish Inquisition.” 

“Uh huh,” she says, and he doesn’t like the way she’s looking at him, all knowing and way, way too smart for her own good. “You missed him by about five minutes. He just went on break, but I’ll tell him you stopped by.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Connor says, and he can’t get out of the ED fast enough. “Thanks, Maggie!”

* 

Connor finds Will up on the roof, staring out into the distance, the sprawling Chicago cityscape stretched out around them as far as the eye can see. Stepping up next to him, Connor squints in the mid-afternoon sun, waits for Will to acknowledge his presence. 

They have been doing this a lot lately – Will being quiet, Connor waiting patiently for him to open up. And it’s fine, Connor gets it, probably better than anyone. He doesn’t mind, because in the end, eventually, Will always does turn to him; it’ll only become a problem if Will stops and closes up all together. That’s when Connor will really start to worry.

It takes a couple of minutes before Will finally sighs and ducks his head, his body seeming to deflate just a little.

“Going on three weeks now, and Jay still won’t talk to me.”

“Did you call him?”

“I’ve called him every day.”

Connor knew that already, has seen Will checking his phone obsessively, has overheard a few of the voicemails. He wants to reach out and touch him, put a hand on Will’s shoulder, grab his hand, _something_ , but he won’t let himself. Instead he steps a little bit closer until their arms bump where they rest on the railing.

“Maybe you should just give him some more time to think and process. Let him come to you when he’s ready.” 

“Yeah,” Will admits, utterly defeated. 

“Hey.” Connor spares a glance toward the door before he reaches over, slides his hand around the back of Will’s neck. “He’ll come around, Will. You two are too close for him not to.”

Will nods and he’s forcing a small smile when he looks over at Connor. “Thank you. Deep down, I know you’re right - I pray that you’re right. It’s just hard. We have never gone this long without speaking before.”

Connor gives his neck a light squeeze, lets his hand slide down along the length of Will’s back before it falls away completely. “I know it is, but I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. And we both know he’d be a complete _idiot_ to throw away a lifelong relationship over something that essentially has nothing to do with him.”

Before Will can respond, Connor’s pager goes off in his pocket. A quick check lets him know he’s needed in the OR, and Connor really wants to kiss Will before he leaves but settles for reaching for Will’s hand instead, giving it a squeeze. “Gotta run, but I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, go be a hero,” Will says as he watches Connor leave, and when he smiles this time, it looks a little more genuine.

* 

“Long day?” Herman asks as he sets a fresh bottle of beer down on the bar in front of Will.

“Long day, long week, long month. Take your pick,” Will replies and takes a drink.

“What’s eating you, Dr. Halstead?” 

Will looks up just as Maggie is sliding onto the seat next to him, and she has time to get comfortable and order a drink before Will can even come up with an answer.

“Life, Maggie. Life is eating me.”

“Care to be a little more specific?”

He hesitates for a moment, takes a drink from his bottle. “I sort of got into a fight with Jay. I don’t know if I’d even call it a fight. An argument, maybe,” he says, picking at the label on his bottle. “We aren’t really speaking at the moment. Or he isn’t speaking to me.”

“But you two are pretty tight, right? I mean, that’s sort of common knowledge about you Halsteads. All brothers fight, I’d bet it’s built into your DNA as siblings and especially as boys.”

It’s true, he can’t argue with that. This definitely isn’t the first time they have been in a fight, but it has never felt this personal before. Will has never had to worry that the other shoe will drop and when it does, he won’t have his brother anymore. It’s all in how they were raised, their very strict household, their family’s beliefs in what’s right and what’s wrong; it would be a different story if he were dealing with his father or mother (god rest her soul) right now, but he never would have pictured Jay being so close-minded and holding on to those ideals.

Once Will makes it to the bottom of his bottle, he licks his lips, swallows hard. “Hey, Maggie, can I ask you something kind of personal?”

“Shoot,” she says, and it takes him a minute to find the words, and even then he still has a hard time putting them together, getting them out.

“When Denise first came out to you and your family, how did you… I mean, for you personally, how long did it take for you to accept it?”

He wants to take the question back as soon as he asks it, especially with the way she’s _looking_ at him. He knows this is probably the last thing she was expecting, it’s been awhile since the reunion and her sister was in their ED, but out of everyone, Will thinks she would understand the most.

When a few long moments have ticked by and she hasn’t said anything yet, Will says, “you don’t have to answer, it’s none of my business.”

“It took a little while,” she finally replies, and the look on her face has finally softened a little, not quite as surprised, but still like she wants more than anything to be able to read his mind. “I can’t put an exact timeframe on it – two months, three, six – because it was a process.”

“And everyone in your family is accepting of her?”

“Yeah, now, for the most part. But it’s been nine years, we’ve had a long time to adjust. It’s not as easy in the beginning.”

Will nods his head and takes a minute to order another beer. He can feel Maggie watching him, and he knows she has questions. His pulse quickens with how badly he wants to tell her the truth.

“Before her, how did you—how did they feel about alternative lifestyles?”

“Will,” she says, puts a hand on his arm. “Where is all of this coming from?”

He lets out a sigh and drags a hand over his face. After a quick glance around the room he slides out of his seat, motions for Maggie to follow. He leads her back to a corner table, a little more private, not nearly as many people around as hovering at the bar. His stomach clenches a little, and he can feel himself start to sweat.

“I’ve um, I’ve been in this relationship for… getting close to a year now—”

“Shut up,” she says, her eyes wide.

“Jay found out a few weeks ago and to say he wasn’t happy about it would be an understatement.” 

“Which part was he mad about – the nature of the relationship or the fact that you’d been keeping it a secret?”

“Both, I think. The whole situation.”

“You know I love you,” she says, reaching across the table to grab his hand. “And I’m sorry about your boneheaded brother, I really am. But honey, I am _dying_ right now. _How_ did none of us know about this? How have you been hiding something _this serious_ for so long? And _who in god’s name_ is this other person?” 

Will can’t help but laugh, and he’s about to give her a name when he catches sight of the person in question walking into Molly’s. They probably couldn’t have planned the timing any better if they tried to, and Will keeps his eyes on Connor as he heads to the bar, smile on his face. All he does is nod his head in that direction and Maggie is turning in her seat, following his line of sight.

“Get. Out.” Her eyes are wide as she turns back to Will, on the verge of coming right out of her seat. “I knew it. I knew something was going on when he came looking for you, _I knew it!_ That boy is a subtle as a brick.”

He can tell Connor isn’t entirely sure what he’s walking into when he makes his way to their table, his steps slow, a little hesitant, cautious even.

“Maggie, Halstead,” Connor says, and Maggie snorts out loud at the use of Will’s last name. Will just shakes his head and slides over to the other chair, gives Connor room to sit down next to him. “What’s going on?”

“We were just talking, and uh… Maggie knows.”

“Maggie knows?” Connor asks, glancing from Will to Maggie (and her ridiculous, ecstatic grin) then back again. 

“Maggie knows,” she confirms. “And she’s so happy about it.”

“Okay... What did I miss?” Connor laughs a little this time because Maggie has her chin propped on her hand and she’s watching them with a grin that doesn’t seem to be fading any time soon.

“I’ll fill you in on the conversation later,” Will says, “but I didn’t think you would mind. She also said you’re not very subtle anyway, so.” 

“Hey!”

* 

His hair is still soaking wet as he crawls up onto the bed, covering Will’s body with his own. Will lets out a squawk of protest when cold water drips onto his bare skin, but it’s half hearted at best before Connor is kissing him quiet, kissing him boneless and needy, stealing his breath away.

“Mm, I want you to do something for me. For us, actually,” Connor murmurs as the kiss breaks.

“Anything,” Will says, because he literally would do anything Connor asks him to do in moments like this – kissed into submission and eager for more, eager to please. Connor has played him well. 

Maybe a little too well because before Connor can go on, Will is pulling him into another kiss, slow and deep and lingering. He tangles their legs together, digs his fingers into the firm muscle of Connor’s back just before he has them both shifting, rolling, flipping their positions until he has Connor spread out on his back.

Connor settles nice and comfortable, gets Will’s body nestled sweetly between his thighs, and barely takes a second to catch his breath. “So dangerous when you say _anything_ to me,” he says with a small laugh, doesn’t miss a beat when he adds, “move in with me.”

Will feels like he mentally trips and has to blink hard, propping himself up on his elbows. “Really?”

“Really,” Connor says, threading his fingers through ginger curls. “We’re always together at one place or the other anyway, and I don’t see that changing. Unless you just want to keep your own space?” he offers, even though he knows that Will has been struggling to keep up with the rent on his apartment, despite the fact that Will won’t actually talk to him about it. Money is one subject they don’t touch if they can help it; it’s safer that way, much easier to avoid unnecessary arguments. They aren’t going to fight if they don’t have to.

“No, not at all, I just. How long have you been thinking about this?”

“A while,” Connor replies, his hips shifting beneath Will’s, pressing up in a suggestive little grind. “Say yes.”

“Connor.” Will’s hands curl in the sheets and he ducks his head; Connor grins faintly to himself, drags his hands down along Will’s sides to his hips. “I wouldn’t be able to split the rent with you at your place, not even close.”

“Doesn’t matter. We’ll figure it out.”

“You really think it’s a good idea?”

“You don’t?”

They simply look at each other for a few long moments, Connor’s hands rubbing circles into Will’s hips as he gives him time to think about it. He knows it’s a done deal when Will lets out a huff and pulls out of Connor’s reach, starts the slow slide down along the length of his body.

“It’s gonna make it more difficult for us to hide this, you know.”

Connor shrugs a shoulder, watches as Will hooks skilled fingers under the waistband of his boxers and tugs them down. “We’ve known we wouldn’t be able to hide forever. I’m okay with that - are you?”

A smile slowly spreads across Will’s face. “Yeah. I’m okay with that.” 

* 

“Are you following me?”

“We are going to the same place, yeah.”

“Really?”

“Will.” Connor stops in the middle of the hallway, exasperated. “We talked about this.”

“I didn’t realize it had been decided for sure!”

Connor lets out a sigh, drags a hand through his hair. “Do you really want to face her by yourself? I mean, honestly.”

Will doesn’t even have to think about his rocky relationship with Sharon Goodwin to know that nope, no, he absolutely does not want to do this by himself. Having Connor by his side will definitely be the support he needs to see this through, to not get halfway there and chicken out before he gets to the entire point of speaking with her in the first place.

They knock on the door before entering her office, Will hesitating just a little in the doorway. “Good morning, Ms. Goodwin. Do you have a minute?”

“Sure,” she says, barely glancing up from the file she’s writing in. “Come in, have a seat.”

“We don’t want to take up too much of your time,” Will says as they settle in front of her desk, and he’d be lying if he said his pulse hadn’t kicked up a notch or two. “I just—I wanted to tell you first, personally, before you heard it from someone else. I’m filling out the paperwork to change my address today.”

She finally looks up at him. Blinks a few times. “You do that with HR, Dr. Halstead. Not with me.”

Will cracks a smile, small and nervous. “No, I know. It’s more to do with… Connor – um, Dr. Rhodes? – and I are going to be living together.”

“That’s all well and good, gentlemen, but you don’t have to run your roommate arrangements through me.” 

“It’s more than just that. Ma’am.” Will chances a glance over at Connor; he looks cool and calm, and it’s enough to remind Will to breathe.

Goodwin looks between the two of them for a long moment before she slowly removes her glasses, and Will can see it, the exact moment it sinks in, the way her face changes when the switch gets flipped and she gets it.

“I see,” she says, and the seriousness of her tone makes something in Will’s stomach flip flop.

“We have looked into it,” Connor says. “We know hospital policy when it comes to employees dating. There aren’t any rules being broken. But we figured given certain… _circumstances_ that have happened in the past, you deserved a heads up. Just in case.”

Will ducks his head, can’t really help it. He knows that he’ll probably never live it down, the strife he has caused Goodwin and the hospital, but that doesn’t stop him from hoping that one day, maybe, he’ll do something great enough to make up for it.

“Well. As long as you two believe this arrangement won’t begin to affect your jobs and your ability to treat patients, there’s nothing I can really say about it.”

“If it hasn’t yet, we don’t believe it will become an issue. We still butt heads over patients the same as we always have.”

“We’ve been using the utmost discretion when it comes to our relationship while we’re here in the hospital. That’s not going to change now that people are beginning to know about us,” Will adds.

She gives them a curious look at that, and she hesitates for just a second before speaking. “If you don’t mind me asking, how long…?”

“A year, next week,” Will answers with a smile that says he’s nothing less than proud of that fact. Happy.

The surprise is clear on her face as she takes that in – how well they have kept it hidden for so long, the fact that she had no idea during that entire time that this was coming. It’s then that she finally allows herself to smile, small but warm. “Well, in that case, I suppose congratulations are in order.”

* 

Things sort of snowball rather quickly after that.

April and Ethan find out at the same time, a little less than a week later when Connor is struck down by the flu and has to leave only a few hours into his shift. Will sees him out of the corner of his eye while he’s talking to Dr. Choi about a patient, Connor slowly making his way toward the main entrance, and Will is quick to excuse himself mid-sentence.

“Connor, hey!” He all but runs over, instantly worried when he sees the flush on Connor’s cheeks, the pained crease on his brow, the light sheen of sweat. “What’s going on?”

“Flu,” is all Connor says, keeping himself at arm’s length. “Wasn’t just tired this morning after all.”

“Are you sure it’s the flu? You got the shot, right?”

“We all got the shot. It’s still the flu.”

“Damn. Did you get the meds? We have it in the pharmacy, it’s supposed to help.”

Connor shakes his head, tries to shove his hands deeper into his coat pockets, curling in on himself. “Nah, I’ll pick something up on the way home. I’ll be fine. You should get back to work.”

“You should really get the meds.”

“Go back to work.”

“Connor.”

"I’m leaving now,” he says and walks away.

By the time Will gets back to his conversation with Ethan, April has joined him and they’re both leaning against the counter at the nurse’s station, staring at him like he has grown a second head.

“What?” he asks.

“That,” April says, pointing with her pen in the general direction of where Connor was just standing. “What was all that?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, _oh_.”

“Uh, apparently he has the flu.”

They’re still just looking at him, like that didn’t explain everything the way it should have. Like it can’t be _that_ easy. Of course not.

“And your sudden concern for Connor Rhodes is... what? Purely medical?” Ethan asks. 

“Guys, come on.”

When April calls for Maggie, Will finally breaks down, drags them into the lounge and tells them the truth. He’s really looking forward to the day when Connor is the one that gets to have this conversation with people, seriously.

* 

Reese finds out when she catches them on the roof together the day Connor comes back to work. She and Joey are laughing when they come tumbling through the door, a picture perfect example of young loved wrapped up in each other, but their laughter dies out, grins fading when they realize they aren’t alone.

Will and Connor see more than hear the way she says, “oh,” when she sees them. The way her eyes zero in on Will’s hand on Connor’s back, a little too slow in pulling it away. The way she straightens up and says, “ _oh_ ,” again, in an entirely different way.

Not because they’re interfering with what was to be private time between her and Joey, but that she might be interfering on something private, something very personal between the two of them.

Sarah Reese has always had one of the most expressive faces, and right now, they can see her working it out, her eyes moving over them, thoughts racing in her brilliant head a mile a minute.

“Dr. Reese,” Connor says and clears his throat, flashing a smile as he turns to face her. “Got a minute to talk?”

* 

Their favorite food truck is parked in front of the hospital, and Connor’s stomach rumbles loudly at the sight of it. He’s starving and the four or five people already in line are entirely too many, especially since he never knows how long he’s going to get to eat, if he’s going to get paged back into the hospital for some reason or another. It’s also freezing outside and he shivers against the frigid air, can’t for the life of him figure out how or why Dr. Charles is willingly sitting at a table off to the side munching on a bag of chips like it’s a pleasant seventy degrees out instead of close to thirty. 

The guy is clearly insane, despite his brilliance.

“Hey, Dr. Charles! You want?” Connor calls out when he’s finally next up in line to order. “My treat. It’s a million times better than that garbage you’re shoveling.”

“I like my garbage, thank you!” Daniel calls back.

Connor laughs, shakes his head. His teeth are chattering by the time he places his order, and he tells the guy to keep the change when he pays, walking over to join Daniel as he waits for his food to be prepared. 

“What in the world are you doing sitting out here?”

“It’s a beautiful day, thought I’d take a few minutes and come out to clear my head. You don’t find this absolutely refreshing?”

“I can’t say that I do, no,” he says, giving Daniel some serious side eye because refreshing? Really?

“Huh.”

It’s then that Connor’s phone buzzes in his pocket and he fishes it out, checks the screen. He reads the text from Will, grins faintly to himself.

_‘You’re at lunch already?? You suck!’_

They have a short back and forth, a quick rapid fire of messages sent, and it’s somewhere between Will’s next text begging to smuggling him in a taco and Connor retrieving his lunch from the truck that he realizes Daniel doesn’t know about them yet. It seems a little strange that he doesn’t know, because if Connor had his way, Daniel is probably one of the first people he would have told. 

He’s just about to open his mouth when Daniel stands up, tosses his empty chip bag in the trash. “Hey, Doctor Charles, can we talk for a minute?”

“Yeah, sure. Mind if we do it inside? It’s freezing out here.”

Unbelievable.

Inside the warmth of Daniel’s office, Connor digs into his lunch at his insistence (“you guys get what? two seconds to eat?”) and thinks about what he wants to say, how to say it. Does he just blurt it out? Short, sweet, to the point? That’s probably the best route to take, it’s more his style, but how do you even start a conversation like this? How has Will been telling everyone so easily?

But then he thinks it probably hasn’t been so easy, not really, a small pang of guilt hitting him in the chest when he realizes how much of this Will has shouldered himself. He’ll have to remember to thank Will for that later.

Connor swallows hard, wipes his mouth on a napkin. Thinks he might as well just jump right into the deep end. “Dr. Charles, I—”

“So, how are you and Dr. Halstead doing these days?” There’s an awkward pause spent just looking at each other, Connor’s mouth hanging open, before Daniel adds, “If you don’t mind me asking.”

Connor blinks, finally gets his mouth working. “How did you—”

“Oh, I’m sorry, truly. Forgive me for being so blunt. But honestly? It wouldn’t take a psychoanalyst to figure out it.”

“How long have you known?”

“For sure? Since right now. But I would have bet money on it six months ago, maybe even before. I’ve been watching the subtle changes in the two of you for a while now, and I’ve gotta say, it’s been really fascinating. Dr. Halstead, try as he might, gives a lot away, a lot more than you do.”

Connor doesn’t know whether he should laugh or be offended or flattered, maybe, that he and Will are even that interesting in the first place. He does know that he has to get on Will’s case about his lack of subtlety later because _he fucking knew it_ , but right now he’s at a little bit of a loss.

“I’m sorry, I’m just… I don’t even know what to say.”

“I haven’t mentioned it to anyone, if you’re worried about that.”

“No, that’s not… That’s sort of why I wanted to talk to you, actually,” Connor says and he drags a hand over his face, tries to re-gather his thoughts. “People have been finding out about us, one way or another, and I just sorta realized that you hadn’t, yet. And I thought you should know. But here you are, one step ahead of me, and I don’t know why I’m even a little bit surprised, honestly. If I had to pick anyone to figure us out first, it would be you. Hands down.”

Charles just shrugs and leans back in his chair, an easy going smile on his face. “I observe people. Whether I want to or not, whether I realize I’m doing it or not. And you guys all but tripped and fell onto my radar one day, out of the blue. And I’ve been silently pulling for you ever since.”

* 

The living room of Will’s almost former apartment is covered in boxes, stacks of newspaper. Too many boxes, really, because it’s not like he has that much stuff, especially not with his various moves between Chicago and New York, but Connor insisted, said it was better to be over prepared than under. Plus, the boxes came free from the hospital so who is Will to argue?

He sits in the middle of the floor, going through stacks of books, idly wonders how much space he’s actually going to have at Connor’s place. What parts of the condo are going to be carved out as _Will’s space_? Or is it all of a sudden all going to become _their_ space? He doesn’t really know how these things work, this is the first time he has ever done this, and now, doing it with someone like Connor… 

It’s weird. To say the least.

“So. Got a question.”

“Yeah?” Connor says from the kitchen where he’s wrapping up the few dishes Will owns for storage.

Will sort of wishes he thought out his question a little bit better before opening his mouth, but. “Are we—I mean, is all of my stuff going into storage? How much room do I have to work with? I don’t want to clutter up your place or anything.”

“First of all, it’s our place now. Second of all, bring whatever you want and we’ll figure it out,” Connor says, carrying his now full box into the living room and setting it by the door. 

Will looks at the books around him, figures he probably doesn’t really _need_ them, even if he just likes having them on hand. He knows Connor has his own little mini library of medical texts; those would do for him too, now. “But what about—”

Connor is sighing as he flops down next to him on the floor, shoving a stack of books out of the way so he can scoot in close. “It doesn’t matter. You can bring everything, if you want to. The furniture would get a little tricky, but hey.”

Will flashes a grin. “Definitely don’t need this shitty furniture where I’m going,” he says, leaning his weight against Connor’s side. “But you’re right, it doesn’t matter. It’s just stuff, it’s not a big deal.”

“But I’m sure some of this stuff means something to you. I wouldn’t expect anything less than that.”

Will can’t really explain the swell of emotion he feels in his chest, or even why, all he knows is that he’s suddenly pushing Connor down onto his back and crawling over him, and Connor is starting to laugh when his mouth gets claimed in a kiss. The sound quickly fades though, because Will kisses him like he means it, like he wants him to feel it down to his very core. 

Connor is apparently impossible to resist when he goes against his true nature of being a complete control freak.

All thoughts of packing and moving are lost for a few long minutes, replaced by deep, lingering kisses and wandering hands and really, neither of them are too good to do this right here on the floor. But before things can get _really good_ , before they make it to that sweet spot of too far gone, they’re interrupted by a knock on the door. Will groans, ready to ignore it but Connor pushes until he rolls off, taking a moment or two to breathe before he climbs to his feet. 

“Who isn’t working today?” Will asks as he heads to the door, laughing at the sight of Connor sprawled on the floor amongst the books and boxes, the sound quickly dying when he opens the door. 

“Hey,” Jay says, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket. He looks sheepish, anxious, and Will wonders if he’s suddenly dreaming.

“Jay,” he breathes, like seeing him and being able to say his name is a relief in and of itself, regardless of why he’s even there.

“Heard you were moving. Thought I’d come by, see if you needed any help.”

Will blinks at him because what? “You—Really?”

“I’ve been a dick,” Jay says, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. “I mean, yeah, I needed a little time to think and process, and it hurt that you didn’t tell me, that you kept something this huge from me for such a long time, but I was a dick to you and I’m sorry, Will.” 

All Will can really do is shake his head, blinking against the sting in his eyes, and he reaches out to pull Jay into a hug. He wants to say thank you, to tell Jay that he loves him, but all he can manage right now is to swallow hard against the lump in his throat as he holds on tight. 

“You’re my brother, man. I could never turn my back on you,” Jay says into the hug and Will nods, finally breathes out a shaky, “thank you.”

Connor is sitting in the same spot Will left him, now idly placing books into one of the boxes as Will and Jay move further into the room. He’s almost startled when Jay turns his attention on him, points a finger in his direction and says, “and you!” Connor looks up, eyebrows raised in a silent question. “You better not forget that I have a gun. And that I work for Hank Voight. Got it?”

“Yeah. Got it,” Connor replies, deadpan, and Will can tell he’s fighting the urge to roll his eyes. 

“Alright, good. So, what can I do?”

Will gives him a couple of boxes and sets him up at the entertainment center, packing away movies and music before breaking down larger items. The three of them work steadily, efficiently for a while, falling into a companionable silence more often than not as boxes get filled, taped and labeled in Will’s messy scrawl. They get sorted into two groups after that, what’s being taken to storage and what’s going to the condo.

Connor catches Will’s eye over a stack of boxes, gives him a particular look. Will isn’t sure what he’s trying to say, his eyebrows raised in question. Connor nods toward Jay, like that should make it all suddenly clear but Will is still lost because honestly, it could be so many things. 

“You guys can speak actual words around me, you know. I’m not gonna freak or anything,” Jay says.

“Yeah, Connor, use your words.”

Connor lets out a sigh, slightly exasperated. It’s going to get old really quick, dealing with two Halsteads instead of just one, he can tell already. “We were going to take some of Will’s stuff to his storage unit, drop the rest off at our place. I was thinking it might be nice if the three of us grabbed some dinner or something, had a few drinks.”

Will looks at Connor, then at Jay. It takes him a second before he nods and smiles. “Yeah, sure. Sounds good to me,” Jay says, and the three of them reach for coats, slip back into shoes. It’s not until they’re grabbing boxes and heading out the door that Jay looks at Connor and adds, “you buying?”

* 

“Any regrets?”

Connor hums as Will’s fingers thread through his hair, smoothing it back, spiking it up, curling a wayward strand around one finger. He’s quiet for a while, long enough for Will to think he isn’t going to get an answer to his question, that maybe Connor is drifting off to sleep, when he finally speaks.

“No. Except maybe not kicking your ass in an elevator sooner.”

“Ha, ha. Moonlighting as a comedian now?” Will asks, smoothing a finger down the bridge of Connor’s nose where it scrunches when he laughs because if anyone thinks Connor is funny, it’s Connor himself.

“I don’t, though, seriously,” Connor says and his eyes finally blink open just enough, his hands sliding over Will’s hips beneath the sheets. “Do you?”

It’s been a really good year; they did a little reminiscing over dinner, touched on a few of the ups and downs – more on the ups, less on the downs. Mostly though, dinner was spent with Will shamelessly flirting with Connor across the table and Connor doing his absolute best to control himself until they got home.

Because honestly, everyone knows dinner on an anniversary is really nothing more than a prelude to sex. And they both knew, despite any other pretense, that they really wanted nothing more than to be right here.

“Not that I can think of right now. Maybe I’d tell Jay a little sooner if I could go back, but I’m pretty happy with how everything has played out.”

Connor’s fingers dig into the small of Will’s back, the temptation there to trail lower. “Happy, huh?”

“What, you gotta ask? You can’t already tell?” Will teases with a slight grin.

“Well, you know, I just think you could maybe, perhaps…” Connor says as temptation gets the best of him, his hand dipping down lower until Will is gasping above him, “…look a little happier?”

“Oh good christ, warn a guy would you?”

He’s still a little slick, muscles loose from their time before, two of Connor’s fingers slipping inside his body easily. Will’s eyes fall closed, his mouth open in a silent groan as Connor’s fingers twist just right and he gets pulled into a kiss, deep and lingering.

“Mmm, much better,” Connor murmurs against his mouth, and Will can _feel_ the smirk, the smug satisfaction.

“God, I love you,” Will breathes, laughter bubbling just beneath the surface. 

Connor kisses him again, surging and powerful, using his momentum to get their positions flipped so Will settles flat on his back, and even then the kiss goes on until Will’s lungs are screaming, his head starting to swim. Connor finally breaks away only because he has to, sucks in a deep breath, presses their foreheads together.

“I love you, too.”


End file.
